


Office Hours

by moonpeace (plumesvertes)



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumesvertes/pseuds/moonpeace
Summary: Mel really doesn't care about this class. Or magic at all, really. Unfortunately, it is the sacred duty of the TA to help academically wayward souls such as herself.





	Office Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queen_of_Ice101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Ice101/gifts).



> This takes place in a modern AU where magic exists and Mel is dragged to Shadwood University after her magic abilities are discovered by accident while attending University of War and Magic. Edward, of course, transfers along with his best friend. The plot of AV3 didn’t happen (although all the party members still met each other one way or another), but the backstory regarding the Darkthrop family is still the same, and Te’ijal is still responsible for first bringing Mel to school in Thais.

It was a beautiful day for a nap. Mel wasn’t going to waste it, even if it meant getting an F for participation. It was a win-win scenario; she got to spite the professor and get some shut-eye. No stranger to sleeping in uncomfortable environments, she arranged her limbs in the appropriate fashion, pulled her bow over her eyes, and let the melodic drone of the lecture pull her consciousness away from the uncomfortable reality of the fact that she, Mel Darkthrop, was in a magic class.

She missed Professor Gray. He would be rolling in his grave if he could see her now (and, well, if he was dead.)

Mel heard the professor calling her name. She just didn’t want to answer. Nevertheless, she pulled her head up and hoped the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled mess of her hair did most of the talking for her. “I was sleeping.”

“We know. Feel free to continue your nap, Mel, but this time try not to disturb the class with your snoring.”

Whatever. If she weren’t so tired, she’d walk out right then and there. Being the scion of one of the most infamous sorcerers in all Aia should really count for credits. At least, it should count for enough credits to exempt her from introductory magic classes where the professors were bitter enough about their sad station in life to count attendance for a grade.

After dissociating for the remainder of the class, Mel was nudged back to the present at the sound of books (oh right, she was supposed to buy textbooks last week) being hastily shoved into backpacks. Time to meet Edward for lunch, during which she would run through her daily “I hate college” rant and Edward would dispense his daily “please make better life choices” monologue. She was halfway to the door when the professor called her name. Nope, she was _not_ about to listen to another holier-than-thou spiel from some pretentious-

Oh, it was just the quiz she’d forgotten to pick up at the beginning of class. With the words “see me during office hours”, written in red ink and underlined three times, right next to a circle inscribed with the sixth letter of the alphabet.

“I don’t see why I should go,” Mel said through a mouthful of indulgently greasy cafeteria food. “I’m actively trying _not_ to try in that class.”

Edward switched into his patented concerned-friend-who-has-his-life-together voice. “Mel,” he said, placing his hand over her free one, “Go. Please. Do it for my peace of mind.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he’ll fail me if I don’t go.”

“You haven’t done a single assignment for that class. You failed the last test. If you flunk out, I’ll be here alone. Just go.”

Two hours later, Mel found herself idly swiveling the chair in her professor’s office. He was late, and she was bored, and Edward was not going to hear the end of this if she ended up missing her afternoon nap for a professor who counted attendance but had the audacity to be absent for his own office hours. The rant began to formulate in her head as her eyes wandered the room, catching on the various motivational posters adorning the walls. One in particular caught her attention – a flowchart of a cartoon figure performing a spell. It looked like instructions on how to breakdance. How did mages take themselves so seriously when the steps to perform magic looked even more ridiculous than her chicken dance skill?

To hell with it; if Mel was stuck here, she might as well have her fill of amusement.  She mimicked the pose in the poster - right leg in front, shoulders square, hands thrust out. And she was supposed to have some sort of conduit in her hands…yes, this pen would do. In the exercises she’d been forced to complete in class, she’d always prompted the magic into motion through a visualization. The poster showed a flame enclosed within a thought bubble, so Mel closed her eyes, and…

A blinding flash and a wave of unexpected, searing heat caused Mel to careen backwards into the desk, toppling its contents onto the floor. When the spots cleared from her vision, she saw a charred, smoking blemish on the ceiling and smoldering bits of plaster littered across the floor. The pen was now a melted stick of plastic. Mel felt the familiar feeling of “oh crap I really screwed it up this time” well up in her chest, which somehow made the embers blaze brighter. She scrambled to her feet and stamped at the flames, but the blasted things just. Wouldn’t. Die.

Mel was mentally calculating how long it would take for her to climb out the window, grab her things, and buy a one-way bus ticket out of town when the door creaked open. A split second and a rueful shake of the head later, the flames were extinguished.

Goddess, this day kept getting better and better.

“The professor is…indisposed. As his TA, I’ll be taking over office hours for the day.” Gyendal calmly shut the door behind him. Office supplies and assorted magical kitsch were strewn about the disaster area. The vampire paid little mind to this, brushing aside the debris to take his seat. He leaned back, letting an air of authority settle over him as he waited for Mel to sit down. Painful shrieks filled the room as Mel dragged the swivel chair back from where the blast had thrown it, over crunchy plaster and broken glass, in front of Gyendal’s desk.

“Now, what brings you here today?” Gyendal’s voice was velvet, but Mel didn’t let that fool her. She knew that his suaveness masked a deadly blade and a wit just as sharp. That didn’t intimidate her, though – she hadn’t spent seventeen years on the streets to let some tall, dark and arrogant graduate student get the best of her. Not even if he did make her feel two feet tall every time she walked in late and he gave her _that look_. Not even if he was the only soul at school besides Edward who knew the truth about Mel’s last name (damn Te’ijal and her loud, fang-y mouth), and every time she glanced in his direction she felt like his gaze was stripping her down to the very core of her being.

Besides, she had just blown up his office. Mel: one; Gyendal: zip.

“I have a quiz,” she said, rummaging in her bag, before presenting the crumpled piece of paper. “It says ‘see me’. So I came here to see him…or you, I guess.”

Gyendal fished his reading glasses (which were entirely unnecessary, since vampires had perfect vision) out of his pocket and put them on his face. “Yes, I remember grading this one.” He pushed the glasses down so they rested on the bridge of his nose. “Do you know why you failed?”

“Because I left everything blank.”

“Mhm. And you left everything blank for what reason?”

“Because I don’t care about that class?” Mel rolled her eyes with as much disinterest as she could muster.

“Because you’re a spoiled brat who is foolishly throwing away her considerable potential.”

“ _I’m_ the spoiled one?” Mel sprung out of her chair, bracing herself on the desk as she leaned forward. “Everyone around here acts like the rest of us – rest of them – ought to worship the ground you walk on just because your pedigree allows you to do a couple magic tricks. I didn’t ask to be here!”

“Are you done yet? Or shall I make coffee while you have another adolescent outburst?”

The lack of smugness on his face was _infuriating_.

“I’m done,” Mel said, reigning her angry expression into a poker face. She didn’t sit back down.

“Good. Now, as long as you’re standing up, you’re going to put this office back together. If you do a satisfactory job, you can earn up to half the credit you missed on the quiz.”

“Do you want me to kill spiders too?” This part wasn’t unreasonable, since she was the one who made this mess, but still. “Where’s the cleaning stuff?”

“Cleaning supplies won’t be necessary.”

Mel bit back a sarcastic remark as the implication of the words sunk in. She was a big girl; she could clean up her own mess. She didn’t know _how_ , but she’d find a way. Gyendal’s eyes felt like they were boring a hole through her, so she turned around to face the least burnt portion of tile. How did it go again? Arms out, right leg in front…

“You are at office hours, you know. I suggest you ask for help before you cause another explosion.”

“Well, how would you unburn something, _Professor_? Because I took Alchemy 101, and I know you can’t reverse that chemical reaction.”

Mel expected a sigh and a snarky reprimand, so she was surprised to hear Gyendal get up and stand beside her. “Valid point, but you’re not ‘unburning’ anything. What you have to do is whittle away the top layer – essentially a destructive spell, which you’ve proved you have no trouble with, but with more precision. Like so.” He knelt over the area and held his hands a few inches apart, causing a subtle vibration that Mel instinctively knew could only be sensed by magic users to thrum through the air. A split-second later his hand seized forward, and only a cloud of tile-dust remained of the blemish.

“Like this?” Mel asked. She did her best to mimic Gyendal’s position. Again, she was startled – this time by his hands guiding her arms further outward. He mumbled something about how keeping your arms too close to the body was bad for mana flow, but Mel didn’t hear over the rushing of blood in her ears. Then she felt those fingers move up to her elbow…

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Mel snapped.

“I was correcting your posture. Your elbows were sticking out like a chicken’s!”

“Getting a little handsy there, weren’t we?”

“If you came to class more than once a week, you’d know that the professor and the other TAs do the exact same thing to help students during practical demonstrations.”

 “I’ll bet you do.”

“If you’re implying what I think you are, _Mel_ ,” he let the silence after her name hang in the air, “then I’d be remiss to not point out that I wasn’t the one blushing.”

“I did not blush,” Mel said, blushing even harder. “And even if I did, it’s not my fault. It’s hot in here, because _your_ office has terrible air conditioning. And you might’ve been blushing some secret…vampire blush for all I know. Do vampires even blush?”

“Like you’ll ever find out,” Gyendal scoffed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mel raised an eyebrow. It seemed the infamously cold-blooded TA could get his feathers a little ruffled after all.

“It means,” Gyendal sighed and looked up, away from that indignant, blushing face. He was greeted by the sight of the giant burn mark on the ceiling. That one wasn’t coming off with a simple little spell. “Just get this over with so you can get your extra credit and we can both go home. And keep your elbows in,” he added, smirking a little as Mel’s arms pivoted inward as if electrocuted.

A minute later, another square foot of the floor had been swept clean. “Not bad, but use less raw power next time. That way you don’t waste your mana.”

Mel’s mana capacity was pitifully small; she was already nearly drained. Not like she was going to let that stop her. She performed the spell again, this time getting a nod of approval from Gyendal before he returned to his desk, rifling through his drawers. It was only her quick reflexes that allowed her to catch the vial he threw her without so much as a “think fast”.

Sharing covey balm always felt weird to Mel. Even Stella and Lydia had been reluctant at first (that is, until they had taken to applying covey balm on each other). And this covey balm was _Gyendal’s_ , and _used_. Nevertheless, Mel dipped her fingers in and let the healing effect seep into her through the lines in her hands. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Gyendal, not looking up from the paper he was marking.

Good. That meant he hadn’t seen her blush.

Half an hour later, the floor was more or less back to its original state, and the contents of the desk had been put back in their rightful place, no magic required – except for that miniature glass orb, which Gyendal had must’ve magicked back into one piece when Mel wasn’t looking. The ceiling…well. It was an interesting conversation piece. “All done,” she said, and couldn’t help the note of pride creeping into her voice. Not like she cared, or anything – she was just glad she wouldn’t be reported and expelled.

A few beats passed while Gyendal finished marking the test in front of him. “That was a year three spell, you know.”

Wait. “What?”

“I knew you could do it. I wanted to make you prove it to yourself.”

Mel bit back a swear. “What if I had exploded a tile? What if I had passed out from mana deprivation? You’re lucky I don’t report you!”

Gyendal gave her that _look_. She supposed she wasn’t in the best position to be making threats.

“You should thank me for the extra credit – and the opportunity to realize your own potential. If you applied yourself, you could be the best in your class.”

Mel shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I should head to dinner anyway.” She half expected Gyendal to stop her before she exited, maybe ask her to come again later during the week, but he said nothing.

“So, how’d it go?” Edward asked while they waited in line for food.

She shrugged. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Do you think you’ll go again?”

The chef piled a heap of delectable-looking food on her plate. Mel’s mouth watered. “Stranger things have happened.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, my dear friend. It's hard to believe that a year ago, I was writing you another one of these. So much has happened since then...well, here's to another amazing and eventful year! I hope that when you go to college your experience will be better than Mel's lmao


End file.
